


The Talk

by fairy911911



Category: Supernatural
Genre: 11x23, Alternate Season/Series 11, Dean/Cas Car Scene, M/M, Season/Series 11 Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-26
Updated: 2016-05-26
Packaged: 2018-07-10 07:44:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,904
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6973969
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fairy911911/pseuds/fairy911911
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lucifer has finally been expelled from Cas's body, but are things back to the way they were?</p>
<p>Alternate Season 11 Finale.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Talk

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this before the finale aired. As I expected, I was not as thrilled with the Dean/Cas impala scene as one would hope.

Dean tried to focus on the road in front of him. The long line of black pavement broken up by bright flashes of yellow slowly melted into the ever-darkening skies. The world was slowly turning the color of smoke, consuming them all. Dean should have all his intent on the apocalypse at hand, but his eyes kept betraying him, always circling back to Cas up front beside him.

Part of Dean was just relieved that is was Cas next to him, not the sick copy that was Lucifer in his body. His best friend was back; close enough to touch so that Dean knew this was real.

But Dean couldn’t help but notice just how much those months of what was practically torture took a toll on Cas. His skin was translucent and pale, save for the bags under his eyes and hollowed cheeks that were ash gray. He was leaned up in the corner between the seat and car door, and Dean wasn’t sure he would have been able to kept himself sitting up without them. Cas’s body was curled into itself. He wouldn’t even look at Dean, instead just gazing out into space and the open stretches of road in front of them. Dean had never seen him look so small and fragile. Not when he was a human. Not when he was sick from pestilence. Never.

“Are you okay?”

Dean had never been the best with emotions or talking about them, but even he knew that was weak. Of course Cas wasn’t okay. He’d just spent that last few months being the devil’s hand puppet.

After a few moments Cas muttered an, “I’m fine,” still averting Dean’s gaze.

“Ya know, if you want to talk-“

“I’m _fine_ , Dean,” he spat back.

Dean’s hands gripped the wheel, his knuckles fading white under the strain. Okay, definitely doesn’t want to talk; definitely not okay.

The impala lapsed into silence for a few minutes. Only the rush of the wind and the hum of the engine filled the void. Finally, Cas broke the silence. “I’m sorry,” he said under his breath.

Dean’s head whipped around to star at Cas. The angel’s gaze had moved to his lap, his arms crossed in front of his chest like a shield.

“What are you talking about?” Dean winced as he saw Cas flinch at his words. It came out with more bite then he intended, his fear coming out as rage.

“Amara pushed Lucifer out,” Cas explained, still refusing to even look at Dean. “ He was our one shot. I…” Cas swallowed and clutched at the fabric of his coat. “I failed. This is all my fault.”

Dean couldn’t bear to listen to any more of it. With a twist of the wheel the impala jolted to the side of the road. The force of the sharp turn was enough to grab Cas’s attention and the angel finally, _finally_ looked at him with squinted eyes and furrowed brow, as if he couldn’t possibly understand why Dean would be upset.

Dean shoved the stick shift into park and turned his whole body to face Cas.

“What?” Cas asked.

“Listen to me,” Dean said, not taking his eyes off of his best friend’s face. “None of this is your fault, Cas. Lucifer got to you and forced himself in side. You can’t blame yourself for that.”

“I let him in.”

That comment stopped Dean in his tracks. “What?” he asked softly.

“Lucifer said he could stop the Darkness, so I said yes. It was my choice.”

No. There was no way Cas would have volunteered for that. Sam had brought it up, but he had been wrong. Dean was sure of it. But now Cas was … Cas couldn’t say that.

“Cas, you didn’t have to do that. We could have found another way.”

“Well, now we have to.”

“I don’t care about Lucifer,” Dean pushed. “I care about you!” Why couldn’t Cas understand that?

And when Cas _snorted_ at his response if felt like Dean had been punched in the gut. “I apologize if I don’t truly believe that,” Cas answered dryly.

What the hell? Why would Cas think they didn’t care about him? Getting Cas back had been the focus of Dean’s entire life since they had found out it was Lucifer. He had barely gotten anything down or any sleep. Wasn’t that good enough for him?

Cas sighed and turned towards his window again. “Never mind.”

“No!” Dean grabbed onto Cas’s shoulder and forced him to turn back. ‘The hell do you mean by that.”

“Forget it, Dean.”

“The hell I am!” Cas tried to advert his gaze, but Dean just chased his eyes. He lowered his voice, trying to cut some of the edge that had crept into it. “I need you.”

A flash of surprise and tenderness spread across Cas’s face, and for a moment Dean thought he had done it, got Cas out of whatever headspace he was in. But in an instant he was back to the harsh glare and shoving Dean’s hand off of him, “I know you do.”

“Then what’s the problem?”

Cas glanced out at the road ahead of them. “We don’t have time for this.”

“No, we’re talking about this.” His own words surprised him slightly, but Cas had been his number one priority before finding him and he was still number one.

“Dean.”

“Cas.”

Out of the corner of his eye he saw Cas’s hand move towards the keys. Dean quickly ripped them out of the slot and shoved them in his back jeans pockets. Cas had daggers in his eyes, but Dean was resolute.

“You’re being a child.”

“What do you mean I don’t care?”

“Do you really want to have this conversation now?”

“Yes!”

Something snapped.

“You and Sam only care about myself when I’m useful.”

Cas didn’t move when he had spoken – he was completely frozen when his voice became low and jagged – but Dean could have sworn he got slapped in the face. That wasn’t true. Cas had to know that. He was the closest person to Dean – save his brother. Cas meant everything to him.

He must have taken Dean’s stunned silence as permission to keep going. “My troubles are never of your concern, but you expect me to drop everything for you. And I go, every time. Everyone knows I’m your ‘guard dog,’ your ‘pet.’ “ Cas included the air quotes motions as emphasis, but even the ridiculous gesture didn’t lessen his intensity.

“I almost died from the stolen grace. You didn’t even care. I’m-“ Cas stumbled over his words for a moment, but he kept pushing. “When I was human, I thought I had a home to go to.”

Dean thought back to the day Gadreel told him it was either Cas or Sam. He still could see the utter heart break on Cas’s face when he told him to go. He could never forget how Cas trudged up the stairs alone, shoulders slumped and steps heavy. It still hurt.

“I know why you did it,” Cas continued on. “I understand. But I was _human_. I wouldn’t have known it wasn’t Ezekiel. Instead I was alone and homeless and you were fine with that.”

“No, I wasn’t. I felt horrible.” Dean tried to defend himself.

“But you didn’t do anything to fix it. Or even help me a little while I was on my own. You didn’t care about me: it was only about Sam and yourself. It always has been, and it always will be.”

Every word dug into him like a knife, carving away with every blow until he felt hallow. Every moment he had blown Cas off or yelled in his face of let him down flashed in front of his eyes. There were two many memories to count. He was an asshole; how had he not realized? Cas must have hated him.

Cas’s eyes bore into him; waiting for him to do something, say anything. But all the words Dean wanted to say were stuck in his throat. He was going to let Cas down again.

Eventually Cas let out the breath he’d been holding. “When – if we end this, I’ll move out.” He looked down at his hands in his lap, wringing away at the ends of his jacket. “It’s for the best.”

Dean gulped, trying in vain to dislodge the lump in his throat. “If that’s what you want.”

“It’s not what _I_ want,” Cas said softly, shaking his head. “But I know that’s what you’d prefer.”

Dean gripped Cas’s shoulder and forced the man to look at him. “No, Cas, trust me, that’s not what I want.”

“Then what do you?”

Every silent wish and hidden fantasy could have come pouring out right then and there. Maybe some day Dean could wax poems about how, when it came right down to it, he would tear up the world for Cas. That, really, all he wanted was Castiel. But none of the words came out. They couldn’t. Instead, Dean felt his hands move, on some unknown impulse or deep seeded instinct alive and present. His right hand moved to the back of Cas’s neck, cradling his skull. For a moment he saw the flash of shock on Cas’s face, but his eyes closed a moment later. Dean felt himself pull Cas in closer as he leaned into the unknown and, finally, their lips met.

Dean had missed slightly, catching the corner of the man’s mouth, but it was the best he’d felt in years. Cas’s lips were dry and mouth was open slightly and skin was warm. He was completely unmoving against the soft pressure of Dean’s own mouth. It was off and awkward and utterly perfect.

After a moment Dean pulled back slightly, just enough to look into Cas’s dilated eyes. They starred at him in shock, but they were no longer hard and raging. His whole face, whole demeanor, was open and vulnerable. Their syncopated breaths counted the seconds that ticked by before Cas finally spoke.

“Good. That was … good.”

“Good.” Dean repeated. He couldn’t help the grin that was forcing its way onto his face. Cas mirrored him with his own gummy smile.

“If – when this is all over,” Dean began softly, almost afraid to ruin the moment, “would ya want to grab a drink with me, just the two of us, or get some burgers somewhere, or I heard there’s this great movie-“

“Dean,” Cas interrupted. His hand found Dean’s, tangling their fingers together.

‘Yeah?”

“I would love to.” Cas squeezed his palm.

“Awesome.” Dean glanced down at their hands. They’d known each other for eight years and this was the first time he’d held Cas’s in his own. They’d wasted so much time – _he’d_ wasted so much time. And there was still so much he needed to fix.

“Just to let you know,” he whispered, “we’re not done with all that.” He waved a non-committal gestured with his other arm. “I’m going to make it up to. I promise.”

“Okay,” Cas smiled. “But we might need to get going now.”

“Oh, yeah.” Dean dug the keys out from his pocket, still holding onto Cas, and started the car up. The impala hummed to life as it raced down the empty high way on its way to save the world. They had to now. After all, Dean had a date to make.


End file.
